


A Budding Romance

by mintwing



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Merthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintwing/pseuds/mintwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A (likely) one-shot AU where Merlin is a gardener and Arthur is a writer and they meet for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Budding Romance

Merlin hated his job. Gardens, in his opinion, weren’t something beautiful to be marveled at so much as they were a source of pride and accomplishment for those who nurtured them. The wealthy people who hired him had no idea what it took to grow a beautiful garden. It took hard work and dedication; that’s what he told people when they asked him what his secret was. He never told them the third part of his secret: magic.  
  
This was Merlin’s first day at the Pendragon residence. He pulled out the printout his boss had given him and double checked his instructions. When he was sure that he was in the right place, he got out of his truck and started unloading his tools. Judging by the house, both its size and grandeur, it was not unlike any other job he had done.  
Merlin stared at the front of the house and took inventory of what he had to do. The lawn didn’t need mowing, but it needed watered and the bushes around the porch needed trimmed. Nothing he hadn’t done a hundred times before. He put on a pair of headphones and started to play his music.  
  
He went about his business. He referred back to his instructions and got directions to where the water spout was. After he’d done that, he got out his hedge trimmer and started working his way around the house, grooming the bushes to perfection.  
  
Most of the jobs that he found himself doing were mindless tasks. When he was sure that no one else was looking, he’d practice spells.  
  
Andslyht! A breeze shook the bushes. He smirked, pleased with himself.  
  
He kept trimming the bushes, his head bopping along to a song from his playlist.  
  
“Hey!” he looked up. There was a tall, muscular blonde man standing on the porch. “Hey! Gardener?”  
  
Merlin pulled off his headphones and shut off the hedge trimmer. “Yes?”  
  
“Could you keep the noise down? I’m trying to be productive over here.”  
  
Merlin sighed. Trimming the hedges was a job that was done much faster with a pair of electric hedge trimmers, but he could also do the job by hand with a pair of large scissors. “Sure thing,” he said. He went back to his truck and put away the hedge trimmer, opting for the scissors.  
  
When he returned to the porch, the man was sitting on the porch, drinking coffee and reading something out of a binder. His brow was furrowed and his head was in one of his hands.  
  
Merlin went back to doing his job and listening to his music.  
  
“Gardener!” the man shouted again. Merlin yanked his headphones off once more.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Could you please oil those? At least do something to stop that treacherous squeaking! I’m trying to edit a novel and you’re really getting on my nerves!” The man was very unhappy to have a gardener, which was ridiculous considering how much he was paying Merlin.  
  
“I’m afraid not,” said Merlin. He was prepared to be yelled at. The man was glaring at Merlin as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.  
  
“Does the squeaking annoy you, too? Do you understand why I’m the slightest bit upset?”  
  
“I’ve got headphones in because quite frankly, the entire prospect of gardening drives me insane,” Merlin said. He regretted the words as soon as he’d said them. If his boss were to find out, he’d be fired for sure. He’d only gotten this job because his boss had owed Gaiass a favor.  
  
The man smiled. “Not your job of choice, I presume?”  
  
“Nope, just a summer job so that I can work through school.” Merlin was relieved that the man started to calm down.  
  
“So what are you supposed to be, then? What’s schooling going to make you?”  
  
“Theoretically, it’s going to make me a creative writer. Likely an unemployed one.”  
  
The man laughed. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Merlin.”  
  
“I’m Arthur,” he said, holding out his hand. Merlin shook it, and his hand lingered on Arthur’s for just a tad too long. “Care for some tea?” he asked.  
  
“Sure,” he said. He knew that he should say no, but he’d be leaving his job soon to go to school anyways. He didn’t care if he got fired.  
  
“Sit, sit,” said Arthur. “I’ll go get you a mug.”  
  
Merlin sat down on the porch swing and felt out of place in his dirt layered clothing. The scarf that he insisted on wearing everywhere he went had flecks of grass in it from this morning when he’d mown a lawn. He brushed some of the grass out of his scarf, but the pieces landed on the spotless porch and he felt even worse.  
  
Merlin leaned forward and looked onto the table in front of him. He strained his eyes to read whatever Arthur had been looking at. In the binder was a manuscript, covered in pen marks. Detailed notes filled in the margins.  
  
“Here you are,” Arthur came out of the house holding a teapot and a ceramic mug. Merlin sat up straight again.  
“Thanks,” said Merlin.  
  
“Oh, I’m rude. Do you need sugar or cream?”  
  
“No, no this is fine. Really. Thank you,” Merlin said.  
  
“So how much school do you have left?”  
  
“Just a year. I’m really starting to doubt my career choice. No one is hiring fiction writers.”  
  
“That’s the truth,” Arthur said. He took a sip of his tea. “I got my degree a year ago, and now I’m living with my Father. I never thought that would happen again.”  
  
“I’m living on my own. I tried to find a job to get some experience, but there’s nothing. Hence the gardening.”  
  
“I’m thinking about giving up the writing thing. I don’t think that I can stand to live here much longer. I might as well get a corporate job somewhere. At least I’d be out of this house.”  
  
“What are you working on right now?” Merlin asked, hinting at the manuscript in front of them.  
  
“Nothing good, apparently. At least nothing that a publisher wants any piece of, that is.”  
  
“Surely it’s not that bad, what’s it about?” asked Merlin.  
  
Arthur hesitates as he fiddled with his spoon in his tea. “It’s about this hero. He saves a town full of people and slays all of his enemies. I just can’t figure out how to make him happy. I just can’t pull the ending together,” he said finally.  
  
“Can I read it?” Merlin asked hopefully, “Maybe I could give you some pointers, one unemployed creative writer to another?”  
  
Arthur laughed. “I don’t want to waste your time,” he said.  
  
“It’s not a waste of time,” said Merlin. He looked into Arthur’s blue eyes.  
  
“If you really want to,” Arthur put down his tea and reached for the binder. He put it on his lap and Merlin scooted closer so that he could read it. He read the lines as quickly as he could. Arthur’s grammar was impeccable and the dialog flowed easily. Each character in the story seemed to have a unique personality that didn’t feel like marking things off a checklist, and they each seemed to have their own individual story lines. He got all of that from the first three chapters.  
  
“This looks really good, Arthur,” he said finally. “It looks like you’ve got a plot, and your characters are interesting. That’s a lot farther than most paid authors get.”  
  
“But something’s still missing,” Arthur said. He’d finished his tea.  
  
“One thing I did notice- your hero doesn’t have any friends. Do they come into the story later?”  
  
“No, he does it all himself. That’s what makes him more heroic than all of the others who have tried.”  
  
“I haven’t read the whole thing, obviously, but maybe that has something to do with it. Every hero needs support from friends. It’s unrealistic, even in fiction, for him to do all of these things by himself. That would give him another motive.”  
  
“I’ve never thought of it that way.”  
  
“Do you have friends, Arthur?” Merlin asked. The question came out of his mouth before he’d had the chance to think it over clearly. Arthur fell silent.  
“Thanks for your help, Merlin,” said Arthur. He closed his binder and started to stand up.  
  
“Wait!” Merlin stood up in front of Arthur, blocking his pathway to the door. “I wasn’t trying to be rude, I apologize. It’s just that… Well, writing is a lonely path, and you kind of seem like you need someone to talk to…”  
  
Arthur looked down at the binder in his hands, avoiding Merlin’s gaze. “I think you’re right,” he said. He took a step closer to Merlin and finally looked him in the eyes. “Do you want to get something to eat? Tonight, maybe? I mean, if you’re not busy. It’s no big deal I was just wond-“  
  
“That sounds great, yeah,” Merlin said, blushing. “This is my last house of the day. I’ll just finish your hedges and then go home and change clothes.”  
“That sounds great,” said Arthur. He didn’t seem as stiff.  
  
“Great,” Merlin said. “Well, I’d better finish these bushes.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Arthur. Merlin looked at Arthur excitedly. He could feel the beginning of something, hopefully more than just a friendship budding up inside him.  
“I’ll call you after I’m done,” Merlin added.  
  
“You have my number?”  
  
“It’s on the work slip,” he said.  
  
Arthur smiled. “See you tonight then.”  
  
“See you,” said Merlin. He finished the bushes with record speed.

  



End file.
